Date: Wed, 28 Mar 2007 01:58:34 -0700
From: typetomark@hotmail.com
Subject: Reliance
From the Writer of T r u s t U s.
R E L I A N C E
I pointed the pistol towards the ceiling and slowly lowered my forehead to
rest directly on the barrel. Down on my knees, my hands trembled to hold
the firearm steady. In just a few seconds, the pain would be gone. No more
name-calling. No more taunting. No more bruises from the constant school
yard beatings. No more not fitting-in. I could leave it all behind.
If only I wasn't still too chicken to load my brother's gun, I'd have a
chance to be able to end the pain forever. Sobbing, I let the barrel slide
away from my forehead and down to my knees. Although still alive to face
yet another day of torment, I had gained at least some sense of control.
Wiping the tears from my face, some anxiety and hopelessness had left me. I
placed the gun back in my brother's chest and went back upstairs to my room.
Two weeks later things had only become worse. For some reason, the taunting
and name calling from classmates became even more frequent and more intense.
I started skipping lunch to go hideout in the library to avoid my
multitude of enemies.
Having managed to survive most of the day, I unwillingly made my way to gym
class. My whole body became queasy at the thought of another day of dodge
ball even though I had developed a strategy of pre-maturely leaving the
court by pretending I had already been hit.
Surprisingly, I was relieved to discover that I was not going to have to
play dodge ball due to a special presentation we were having on self-esteem,
self-reliance, and suicide prevention. The gym instructors each gave
half-baked presentations in an attempt to seriously address the topics but
it was obvious that this was something they weren't invested in. Their
speeches were choppy and lacked continuity; their skills were more suited
for physical contact than verbal presentation or intellectual thought. I
was counting down the minutes for school to end when surprisingly, a young
man stood up to talk further on the subject. He explained that he was from
another school in the same district but was volunteering to go around to
area schools to speak on suicide. He had shoulder length long brown hair
and brown eyes. His persona seemed to address both worlds: he looked like
he was physically fit and he talked in a manner that showed intelligence.
As he began talking about the time he attempted suicide, I became captivated
by the vulnerability of his seemingly strong persona. He went on to discuss
how he was able to get help from his father, who he had initially been too
scared to talk to. In the end, his father had turned out to be extremely
understanding. He said he owed his life to his father; his number one fear
of talking to his dad about the subject had actually been the act that saved
him.
He stressed that there is always hope and help out there and that there are
many understanding people even if it does not seem like there might be. In
concluding, he stressed that he would always be available should anyone need
to talk and left flyers with his contact information.
His presentation in no way made me feel like I would ever be able to stop my
horrible school experiences; but, he did offer me hope that I was not alone.
Once the school bell rang, most of the kids hurried to exit the gym having
had no interest in the subject at all. I noticed the young man was talking
to the gym teachers although it was obvious the instructors were just
putting up face. Curiously and a bit unsure of whether I should or not, I
slowly made my way to the front table and quickly grabbed a flyer, pressed
it in my pocket without even looking at it, and joined the masses struggling
out the doors.
I read the flyer when I got home: "Reliance. Self-reliance does not exclude
relying on others. Duluth Roth, Student & Friend, 555-3237,
droth@westcityhighschool.com"
I folded it and put it in my desk drawer.
As the weeks went on, I began to find that my hard times at school kept
reminding me of Duluth's charismatic presentation. After being tormented
all day at school -- this time for not knowing what `jerk-off' meant -- I
decided to email Duluth. After several re-writes and edits, I finally sent:
"Dear Duluth: Thanks a lot for the great presentation you did at Central
City High School. I am really sorry to hear that you had to go through such
a hard experience. I know life can be very hard sometimes. I am so glad
that you were able to get through it with the help of your dad and am also
impressed that you are willing to go around and share your experience. Keep
up the good work. Your fan, Tyler."
Later that night, I saw the name, "Duluth Roth" in my email in-box.
Anxiously, I opened the email: "Hey Tyler! I am so glad you found value in
the presentation. I'd like to talk to you. What is your phone number? I
hate email. --Luth"
His email frustrated me. I didn't really want to start talking to him on
the phone as I knew I'd get awkward and not know what to say or talk about.
Or worse, I'd have stuff to say and he'd find out how much of a geek and
nerd I am. I naturally faced enough rejection from people; I didn't want to
start inviting it. So I decided to just let it go. I deleted his email.
Two days later I got another email from Duluth. This one said, "Tyler,
what's your phone number? I need to talk to you."
I wasn't exactly sure what to do. It sounded urgent so instead of emailing
him again, I pulled out the flyer and started to dial his number.
"Hello," a male voice answered.
"Is Duluth there?" I squeaked.
"Yea, this is Luth."
"Hey, this is Tyler, I got your email message," I explained.
"Hey Tyler, listen, I need to talk to you but I got to run some errands
right now. How bout you give me your address and I'll stop by while I'm
out."
I wasn't sure what to say.
"It's important," he continued.
He was in a hurry to get off the phone and although I didn't sense that
anything was wrong with him, I didn't want to risk making a wrong decision
with him. So I gave him my address and was next going to try to ask him
more about the situation like what was going on, or what time he thought
he'd be here, or if he was sure he couldn't just tell me on the phone, and a
whole bunch of other questions that were in my head, but he interrupted,
"Ok, I'll see you soon," and then hung up the phone.
I didn't know what to do before he got there so I just sat and thought. I'd
glance out the window every now and then.
About twenty minutes later a car slowly approached and slowed to a stop. I
recognized Duluth as soon as he stepped out of the car. Soon the door bell
rang and I opened it.
"Tyler?" Duluth asked. I nodded and he extended his hand in a firm
handshake.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"Hey I just really wanted to meet you in person. You're like the only one
that seemed to appreciate what I was doing. No one ever cares. I'd been
thinking of stopping the programs but then your email really made me feel
good about it."
"Of course, no problem, you do really well," I expressed, "But couldn't you
have told me that over the phone?" I questioned.
"Nah, I don't like email and phone and if you hadn't met now, then it
probably would have never happened. People always flake out, you know?"
Duluth paused not wanting to offend and added, "Well, I'm not saying...well,
let's just say I am a very impatient guy when it comes to important stuff,
you know?"
"Sure," I responded.
We hung out at my house for awhile and got to know each other better.
Duluth went in to more details about his suicide attempt and I actually
shared a few things with him regarding my life. I didn't over-burden him
with information but I did share that I had experienced bullying at school
from time to time and that my brother had an unloaded gun that I'd look at
once in awhile. I told him that I'd never ever be able to go through with
anything, let alone actually load the thing, but that I had looked at it
every now and then. I just wanted him to know that he wasn't crazy for the
stuff he had thought of and tried doing to himself. Before he left, he
invited me to hang out with him during the next weekend.
On Friday, Duluth picked me up from school and we went to his house and hung
out in his room. He showed me a lot of his "Reliance" stuff including
posters and pamphlets he had made. At the bottom of one of them, it even
said "Dr. Roth."
"You're not a doctor!" I exclaimed.
"Nah," he replied, "That's my dad. He's helped me out some putting all this
together. I had to put his endorsement on it!"
We then began talking more about how hard life can be especially during
school. I spilled that people had made fun of me for not knowing what
"jerk-off" meant. He smiled at me and asked in an inquisitive yet endearing
way: "You really don't know what it means?"
Defensively I replied, "Well I'm sure it has something to do with sex."
"Hey, it's ok," he replied, "I can show you what it is."
He then leaned closer to me and put one of his hands on my shoulder. His
other hand, he placed on the button of my jeans and unsnapped it. He then
tugged on my pants which made the zipper go down half way and my underwear
to creep out some.
Then he moved his hand away to undo his pants. As he began to lower his
underwear and expose his cock and balls, he told me to go ahead and do the
same. I slowly exposed myself as he began slowly stroking his dick. "All
you do is rub it back and forth, that's all it is, no big deal," he stated.
"Go ahead. Try it," he added.
Oddly, I put my hand on my penis and tried to do what he was doing to his.
"Nah, nah," he said as he grabbed hold of my dick with his other hand and
began stroking me, "like this." He was rhythmically stroking his dick and
mine at the same time.
It was then that his bedroom door opened and in walked his father.
Duluth quickly let go of my flesh and zipped up his pants. Stunned, I
slowly managed to do the same.
His father just looked at us. He was extremely dominant. His frame was
large and built and he had a dark goatee. When he finally did speak, his
voice was solid and firm: "Who is your friend?"
"Ah, ah, this is Tyler," Duluth managed to say.
Dr. Roth neared me and shook my hand saying, "Hi Tyler. I'm Doctor Roth."
It was a very firm and solid grip.
"Nice to meet you," I awkwardly responded.
"Let's give Tyler a ride home now," Dr. Roth stated to his son while holding
open the door.
Duluth got up and I followed. Dr. Roth closed the bedroom door and followed
us down the stairs to the garage. Once home, I tried to emulate what Duluth
had started to do to my dick but I wasn't skilled enough on how to do it. I
gave up.
I did not hear back from Duluth. On Wednesday of the following week, I
decided to call him. His father answered and took my message saying Duluth
would have to call me back. On Sunday I finally got a call back. Duluth
wanted to hang out again. He picked me up and we went to his house. After
hanging out in his room for a few minutes, I finally asked him why it had
taken so long for him to call me back. I was also curious as to if his
father said anything to him about what we had been doing.
Duluth became quiet and unsure of what to say. I became comforting towards
him, which was a natural reaction due to the bond we had been forming. He
suddenly became defiant as if to say that I was over-reacting. "Let me show
you something," he suggested, "Promise you won't freak out."
I nodded.
He then began pulling up the soft navy comforter of his bed and pulling it
down, which revealed attachments that were on the sides of his bed. He
grabbed on to one and worked his fingers over it. It was a clunky piece of
some kind of leather. I finally realized it was a thick leather cuff. The
outside layer was stiff brown, almost orange-ish leather. The inside of the
cuff was soft and cream colored. It was also puffed out revealing the
thickness of the padding underneath the leather. Holes ran the length of
the strap and a metal prong was on the end of the strap. Apparently, once
the strap was folded over someone's wrist, the prong could be pushed through
one of the holes and then latched in place with a small cap that was
attached to a smaller leather strap that folded out from the cuff.
Duluth's cotton sheets were striped navy blue and white. The leather cuff
stood out like a red banana and seemed so out of place. The contrast was
further emphasized by the fact that there were three more leather cuffs
protruding from the sides of the mattress. There were four leather cuffs in
total: two near the middle of the bed and two at the foot of the bed.
"These are what saved me from killing myself," Duluth stated.
"But it's also the punishment I got from trying to jerk off with you,"
Duluth continued.
I asked, "You're dad put you in these?"
"Yup; One week," he answered.
"Huh?" I asked.
"That was my punishment: one week in these things," Duluth added.
I didn't understand how he could have done it. I asked a ton of questions
like how he was able to sleep, how he ate, and even how he went to the
bathroom. He became defensive and argued that it was not that bad. He
seemed to express mixed feelings about the tools that had both saved his
life and been used as his punishment.
"Lay down. I'll show you they are not bad at all," Duluth instigated.
I resisted.
"Just one cuff, just lay down and you'll see," Duluth persisted.
I didn't like seeing him worked up. I felt so bad for Duluth. He was such
a boy and such a man. And yet he was neither. He was so vulnerable and yet
so strong. He was wild and in captivity at the same time.
Letting go of the leather cuff he walked over to the side of the bed nearest
me and sat down. "Come here," he said.
I stood still.
"Just come here," he continued while reaching his arm out to meet my hand.
I let his soft strong fingers lightly clench hold of my fingers and slowly
draw me near. I stepped towards him as he lightly pulled me down to sit
along side him. The entire length of our thighs gently pressed in to each
other. Still holding my hand with one hand, he reached around my back with
his other. The length of his arm was hugging me but his hand extended past
me to clench on to the leather cuff. I was wedged between his body and his
arm holding the cuff.
"Hey Duluth I'd rather not. I believe you that it probably wasn't too
horrible," I stated.
He unfolded the leather cuff to fully expose the puffy cream interior of the
strap.
"They are so soft inside. Just feel it," he suggested.
He guided my right hand to the cuff and began wrapping the creamy leather
around my wrist. He was right, it was so soft. It clung to me like a
magnet.
"Besides, it's only one cuff," he explained.
He forcefully tugged the restraint tightly around me exposing the thick
orange outside layer and inserted the prong in to one of the holes. He then
moved around my body to stand up and lightly pushed me down on to his bed.
"Lye back so I can adjust it right," he explained.
I let my back gently lay on the firm yet soft embrace of his cotton sheets
and soft pillow. I wanted to understand how it locked on but before I could
comprehend the system, he was finished adjusting it and moved his hands
away. I tugged on the strap but the metal cap now held the cuff firmly in
place around my wrist. I could no longer see the prong, which must now be
fully locked in the hole and capped. The leather was so soft around my
wrist. The cotton sheets were bliss and I imagined I could easily fall
asleep in his bed.
"See it's not so bad," he observed.
"How does it lock and unlock," I asked.
"I'll show you with the other one," he suggested.
"No Duluth, I want out now. Show me how it unlocks," I asked.
He began walking over to the other side of the bed towards the other cuff
near my left wrist. As soon as I saw him approaching, I moved my left arm
to my cuffed right arm to try to work the mechanism to release the leather
cuff strapped tightly around my wrist.
Duluth explained, "It won't come off without the key. Well, even if you had
the key, its hard to work the mushroom head of the prong out of the small
hole in the leather strap with only one hand. You really need two free
hands to be able to pry it off. But you don't even have the key so sit
tight."
In panic, I frantically began yanking on the leather cuff. The orange outer
layer was so hard that nothing I was doing was causing any give. The shiny
metal of the cap was solid and was firmly locked around the prong. I
couldn't even tell how a key would unlock the thing even if I had one. I
was able to wedge my finger slightly between my wrist and the cuff but my
finger disappeared in the thick creamy padding, which disabled me from being
able to wedge slack. It was like the padding firmly molded to anything that
pressed on it to ensure no free space.
Duluth had now grabbed hold of the other leather cuff and was working the
sturdy leather contraption with his hands preparing it for my wrist.
"Nice and easy, ok Ty," Duluth suggested as he slowly grabbed hold of my
left bicep and gently began tugging my arm towards him. I did my best to
hold my arm tight to keep my wrist away from the cuff.
But as he slowly began increasing the pressure of his force, my left arm
slowly began to give way to his relentless tug.
"You can't stop me with your other hand already strapped in. I already know.
It's how my dad does it. Gets one cuff on me and then I'm cooked," Duluth
explained.
And he was right. I tried thrashing around with my entire body to stop him
from locking me down further. But there was no getting away from the fact
that I was already firmly anchored to the bed with the gentle embrace of the
firm first cuff.
Soon I felt an initial cool touch of the creamy padding on my left wrist and
then the tightness of the cuff being wrapped and locked around me. Now I
was stuck on my back for good.
Duluth then hiked up my pants and firmly tugged the cuffs near the end of
the bed around my ankles. With each additional cuff, my fighting became
less and less worthwhile.
Satisfied with getting me entirely strapped in, Duluth said, "I still wanna
show you how to jerk off."
"Ah, come on Duluth, stop playing around already," I protested.
He climbed up on to the bed and sat on my thighs and instantly began
prodding the outside of my jeans with his hands.
Having not learned from our previous mistakes, once again, I saw his bedroom
door creep open and in walk his father. Duluth jumped off the bed instantly
with fear. While the first time we had been caught his dad's face held no
expression, this time his face looked very angry.
"I- I- I wasn't doing anything," stuttered Duluth. "I learned from my
lesson Sir."
"Why is he tied up?" the Dr. demanded.
Duluth searched for an answer.
"You're not supposed to be playing with those," his father ordered.
"No dad, dad it's not what you think. I wasn't disobeying you," Duluth
squealed.
"You aren't supposed to even tell anyone about those," the doctor further
instructed.
Duluth struggled for words and slowly articulated, "Tyler needed help dad.
He's been, he's been having trouble at school, just like I did, and he's
been having thoughts. I just laid him down like you did me - to save him."
His dad glanced at me as his anger subsided marginally. "Is this true?" he
asked me.
I struggled with what to say. On one hand, I did not want to play any more
games or help justify the embarrassing situation Duluth had put me in. On
the other hand, I didn't want Duluth or I to get in to trouble. Doctor Roth
was physically strong and exhibited an extremely masculine persona. I did
not want to find out what he was capable of doing to both of us for doing
something wrong. So I decided to back up Duluth's story. "It's true," I
replied, "He didn't do anything wrong."
Seemingly convinced, Dr. Roth motioned for Duluth to leave the room with
him.
Butterflies filled my stomach. A few minutes later Duluth returned alone
just as care-free as ever. I felt very relieved that his dad must have
believed him and that Duluth must have come to set me free.
I noticed something in Duluth's hand. My instinct was that it was something
to help unlock me. At initial glance, it appeared to match the cuff
restraint system.
Just like before, Duluth sat up on top of me and lifted what he was carrying
near the top of my head.
"Did he believe you?" I eagerly asked.
"Yup," Duluth smiled, "But, I had to tell him everything for it to work."
"Like what?" I asked.
"Your problems at school, all the stuff you confided in me, your brother's
gun," Duluth fragmentally listed.
"Ah man, you shouldn't have said all that," I complained.
"He wasn't going to believe me unless I did," he explained.
I tugged on the cuffs and tried pushing up on Duluth's body to communicate
that I wanted him and the cuffs off of me. "Let me out. Where's the key" I
asked.
"Dad's got it," Duluth replied as he brought the piece he was holding down
over my eyes and near my mouth. I felt the same soft padding around my
wrists being pressed against my lips. I felt Duluth wrap the brown leather
piece around my head and heard Velcro closing together at the back. I was
still able to talk although I couldn't move the piece off.
"What is this thing?" I angrily asked.
"It's a spit guard. My dad always puts it on me so I don't spit back at
him," he explained.
It seemed effective. It was like a mask although it only covered the lower
portion of my head. The brown leather ended just below my eyes. It
partially encapsulated my nose although I could breathe through two nose
holes. While my lips were free to move, the leather framed itself around my
mouth, which prevented me from being able to bite or spit something out.
I began to ask Duluth to get the key from his dad when the bedroom door
opened and once again in walked Dr. Roth.
Recognizing his father's authority, Duluth quickly scampered off of the bed
as his father neared my side.
"Tyler, you know we are here to help you. You know we want things to get
better for you," the doctor stated in a more sympathetic tone than I had
ever heard from him. However, a strong sense of dominance still inflected
his resonance.
As he neared closer, peering past the top brown leather edge of my new mask,
I could see the doctor was holding a syringe. He prepared it and guided it
towards my bare arm.
"What, what are you doing?" I panicked.
Concentrating on his work, the doctor did not reply.
Desperate I fought the restraints like ever. Duluth grabbed hold of my arm
to steady it for the syringe. In extreme panic I shouted, "Duluth just
wanted to show me his restraints. I really didn't want to kill myself or
anything. We lied to you! It was all a lie!"
Dr. Roth pressed the needle in to my arm. The liquid disappeared in to my
vein. Dr. Roth finally said something: "There will be plenty of time to
talk all about it tomorrow."